Post-Its
by societysnerd
Summary: The story starts at the end of Season 2 at 'Burning Down the House' with the only difference being that Jane and Maura are an established couple at this point with consequences to bear following the incident at the warehouse. It picks up just before Jane confronts Connors, the IA agent. major character death. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**Post-Its**

**Disclaimer:**

**I don't own Rizzoli and Isles, and certainly not it's characters. That credit goes to Tess Gerritsen.**

On that note, I believe some background may be required. The story starts at the end of Season 2 at 'Burning Down the House' with the only difference being that Jane and Maura are an established couple at this point with consequences to bear following the incident at the warehouse. It picks up just before Jane confronts Connors, the IA agent. Enjoy!

Oh, and this is my first fanfic so please, be nice!

Chapter 1 - Pieces in Play

"So that you can what, _Detective_? _Kill him this time?"_ Had it not been for the situation, the brunette would have smiled at the ME's sarcasm, proud even. Jane, to her credit, didn't even flinch. But the hurt was there. Maura could see it behind those chocolate orbs. She hadn't meant it. What was with it with her and wanting to lash out, to cause pain? "I didn't..."

"No, Doctor Isles is right," she said, eyes on Frost, steadily ignoring the ME. Her walls were up. Those walls it had taken only days for the ME to break down when they first met were back in full force like they had been when Hoyt had still been around, playing hell with the Detective in her dreams. The hurt that had been there only moments ago had been smoothly covered over by complete indifference and detachment. "Doyle's not armed. There's no reason for me to be."

Frost's eyes widened. "You're kidding me, right? You're gonna be in there with an IA agent who will not hesitate to take you out." Frost said, gesturing towards Doyle's room. Jane shrugged. "I'm working evidence. If this goes the way we think it's gonna go, he'll be using one of the guns from the evidence locker. I'll just take the firing pins out."

Pulling her slightly off to the side, "and how exactly do we know which gun he'll use?" He hissed. "You gonna take the pins outta every one?"

"If I have to, so be it." Turning to Maura, "I take it the plan meets your satisfaction." Maura looked away. She was conflicted. Taking her silence as agreement, she turned on her heel and walked away.

"Jane...!" He looked at Maura. "Maura, c'mon..." he pleaded, "if anything goes wrong in there..." Maura swallowed, turning away from Frost. A part of her had done it out of pure fury and malice at Jane for the almost taking away her opportunity to find out who her mother was but another part, the part that was so closely linked to Jane to the extent that she sometimes forgot where one began and the other ended, that wanted to go after Jane, tell her to stop being so stupid, she couldn't possibly go in there unarmed. But it was her who had put the wheels in motion. If only she hadn't been so spiteful. That was her fiancé after all; the one person who loved her, quirks and all. If something happened to Jane... _oh god, what had she done...?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: As always, Rizzoli and Isles is not mine.**

* * *

Chapter 2

Maura stood outside Doyle's room, foot tapping anxiously. Jane had entered the room not all of thirty seconds ago and things had been quiet since. She couldn't hear a word being said and frankly, it was a bit unnerving. It always was when Jane put herself on the line. She glanced at Frost who had his computer out, recording every word being said through the transmitter attached underneath the Detective's oxford shirt. Maura was a woman of science. She didn't listen to her gut but ever since Jane had bulldozed her way into her life, she had come to rely more and more on it and right now her gut made her feel a sense of foreboding. Feeling eyes on her, she looked down to see Frost give her a tentative smile before holding out a pair of earphones. The tension in her unfurled slightly and she accepted them with a grateful smile. Attaching herself to the conversation taking place only feet from where she was, the sound of Jane's boots hitting the floor, pacing the room intently was a welcome distraction. Those god-awful boots; she'd never felt so thankful for them till now.

* * *

Connors looked at Jane expectantly. "Good work detective, where is it?"

"Here, she said, tossing the book to the agent. "Oh, and I found something else? She said, holding up the photograph." It was a photograph of him, his partner, Wally and Doyle. It was incriminating enough to him, never mind to a jury. "It looks like you're the dirty cop. And you killed your partners and Wally. It's a picture of you."He snatched it out of her hands. He glanced over at Paddy lying helpless in the bed.

"I'll see you in hell you sonofabitch," Doyle sneered.

"Looking forward to it, Paddy." He whirled round, taking Jane by the hair and slamming her into the wall behind while his other hand hand grabbed his gun out of his holster. He grinned sadistically. "God, am I gonna enjoy this," he said, putting more pressure on the hold he had on the Detective.

* * *

Maura whimpered. Her heart beat rocketed a thousand beats a minute as she heard the words and the preceding thump that followed. Instinct nearly brought her into the room had it not been for Frost's hand on her arm. His eyes showed compassion. He understood and for the moment, that would have to be enough.

* * *

"Umpphff…" Connors stuck the gun more firmly under her chin. He looked into Jane's eyes glittering dangerously. "I will scream," she warned.

"Go ahead," he sneered, "My guy's on the door."

"You're smart, but your fingerprints are all over that thing," she said, indicating to gun.

Connor snarled, confidence oozing. "Well I'm lucky like that detective." He took the safety off, moved it down before positioning it over her heart. "Any last words, _Detective_?"

"Yeah. You feeling lucky right now?" She asked looking at him. He pushed the gun harder against her and she closed her eyes as he pulled the trigger. There was a resounding click but still, she stood there before him, one eye open. His eyes widened at the realisation of what had just happened. Jane smiled cockily. "No firing pin. I took em out of all the guns. That's not luck. That's just covering my bases," she smirked.

Before he could even reply, the door to the room burst open and filled with cops, Korsak screaming, "hands on your head! Get em up!"

* * *

Jane was removing the wire from underneath her shirt when she heard the familiar click of heels. She looked up to see Maura entering the room, her Lieutenant close behind.

Cavanaugh cast a cursory glance over her. "You ok?"

She nodded, willing her heart to stop racing. _Thank god she'd taken the pin out._ "Yeah, I'm ok."

"Good. Get your ass back to the precinct Rizzoli, and back up to homicide."

"They're done?" she asked surprised.

"They're done." He gave a final nod before exiting the room.

* * *

The moment Maura laid eyes on the brunette, she wanted to throw herself into her arms and release the building dam of emotion that had gotten caught in her chest. _God, was she glad to see her standing there, straight, tall, confident, as if the events that had taken place were but a mere blip of the job she would so often lay down her life for._ They had a lot to talk about but right now was neither the time nor the place. Awkwardness settled over the two.

Jane fiddled with the wire in her hands before clearing her throat and turning to face her fiancé. "I've got something to show you." Maura nodded, turning to follow her, unaware that the next few moments would affect the rest of her life. The sudden movement in the corner of her eye from Doyle was enough to make Jane whip round and face her adversary, moving towards Maura in two simple strides to cover her. It was as if time stood still for the ME. It was the warehouse all over again but this time with repercussions neither woman could foresee. One moment she was following Jane out of the room, the next she saw a desperate Jane Rizzoli barrelling towards her pushing her down, putting her behind her, panic written all over her beautiful features. Her peripheral vision caught Doyle moving extraordinarily fast for a man who'd just come out of surgery before pulling out a shiny, black .9mil, finger going to the trigger. In her line of vision, Maura watched Jane's hand go for the gun she didn't have, the echoing 'NO!' that would forever haunt her dreams. Two shots were fired. She watched Jane's body brace for impact, watched the subsequent fall of the detective and the resounding thud that followed.

* * *

In that moment before all hell broke loose, before chaos entered the room, Jane thought three things, the first and foremost being, protect Maura. The second was _shit,_ _she didn't have her gun with her_ and the third was that Maura was going to kill her..._again. _The next thing she knew was that she felt searing pain in her chest before she hit the floor.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: As always, Rizzoli and Isles is not mine.**

* * *

Chapter 3 – This is Not Goodbye

The sounds coming out of Jane's mouth were wretched. Blood appeared at the corners of her mouth, her body spasmed intermittently. Maura moved from her position where she was applying pressure, allowing Korsak to take over, to cradle Jane's head in her lap, silent tears running down her face.

"Hush, pretty girl," she said, gently massaging the slight wrinkles in her forehead caused by the pain away. "you need to save your energy for later so that you can fight with the poor doctor over here to let you out before you shoot him." Jane looked up into those hazel eyes she loved so much.

"Y-yo-you've b-been around m-me t-t-t-oo long"

"Not long enough," came the gentle response. Maura placed a soft kiss on her fiance's forehead. "We still have many more years left, don't you give up on me now," the tremor in her voice betrayed the confident aura she gave off but Jane heard it and it was enough to give her pause. _God, if she had to die, it would be on her own terms, not Doyle's._ She had a feeling it was best to say what she had to now, before it was too late, before she no longer had the opportunity. She owed it to Maura.

"M-Maura..I-I-I'm s-sorry..Doyle.."

"No, Jane, no. You have _nothing_ to apologise for," Maura replied fiercely. "You were doing you're job. I'm the one who should be sorry. I should never have let you come in here unarmed. I should never have pushed you to one side and ignored you at the warehouse. You were doing you're job, you hear me? You were doing _you're job_. So, no. No apologies."

"Y-yo-u d-do-don't blame me?"

Maura gently stroked one hand through Jane's hair, the other cupped her cheek. A tear escaped and rolled down her face at the thought that. Oh god. "I never blamed you, Jane. _Never. _And if you had to do it all over again, I wouldn't want you to do any different, understand?"

Jane studied her fiancé momentarily, holding the knowledge that the ME couldn't lie, before releasing the breath she hadn't been aware she'd been holding. "N-noth-nothing d-different," she nodded.

"Now you listen to me, Jane Rizzoli," the ME said, her voice brooking no terms for argument, "I _expect_ to see you once you're done in surgery and then you're coming home with me and we're going to take a few days off and snuggle up on the couch with some popcorn and pizza and watch copious amounts of tv and movies. I'll even let you watch that horrible one, Alien, you love so much. How does that sound?" To Jane's ears, it was the best thing she'd heard since the awful affair; it meant that they were going to be ok. _Cop-a-what?_ The detective thought, brain having caught up with the ME's words, eyebrows knitting together in perplexity. "Endless, Jane. It means endless," the ME clarified knowing exactly what had caused her confusion. _Oh. _She smiled but it came out more like a grimace. Even in such circumstances, Maura's google brain was still in overdrive.

Bringing herself back to matters of more importance, she managed to ask, "P-pep—pepper-roni?"

Maura chuckled at Jane's hopeful look. "A huge pepperoni. I'll even join you this once."Jane's eyes widened at the thought of the blonde 'feasting' on all those calories.

"M-Maura?"

"Yes, sweet girl?"

"I d-don't snuggle."Maura chuckled. Even when bleeding out, Jane always had that badass reputation to maintain. It was typical of her Detective but she wouldn't have it any other way. The chuckle turned into a choked sob. She looked down to see Jane's brows furrowed, a concerned look in her eyes. Maura got a hold of herself. Now was certainly not the time. She needed to be there for Jane.

"With me, you do. And I'm so glad only I get to see that side of you," she whispered, as doctors and nurses alike gathered to stop the blood flow. She leant down to brush their noses together, before placing a soft kiss on those lips she loved so much. "I love you," she said, "so, so, so, so much." Jane's eyelids fluttered closed, the act of staying awake more than a mere struggle. "Jane?" The panic in her voice could now be heard. The brunette's silence only elevated the worry.

"Doctor Isles, we need to take her now." Maura was brought out of the bubble they'd enclosed themselves in but then it had always been like that with the two of them. Symbiotic; that was them. It was hard to know where one started and the other began. Maura nodded, conflicted. Whilst she understood the doctor's need to take Jane into surgery immediately, she couldn't help wanting to keep her close by, if only to make sure she stayed with her.

"Stay with me pretty girl. Stay with me," she whispered, bending close to Jane's ear before letting go of Jane's soft, scarred hand so that the doctor and nurses could do their job. She was still whispering it long after Jane had gone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: As always, Rizzoli and Isles does not belong to me.**

* * *

Chapter 4 - Blame

She whirled round. "How the hell did Doyle get his hands on a gun?" she hissed, "someone was supposed to be watching him! A cop no less!"

"Maura..."Korsak began, looking helplessly at Frost who stood to the side of him, fists clenched. He had no answers.

Barry stepped forward. "IA had their eye on him," he said, a piteous excuse for the resulting pandemonium and mess that had broken out.

"That's no excuse! You both _knew_ that _someone_ within IA was dirty! How could you take that chance?"

"The room was checked. Thoroughly, might I remind you. You. Were. There," he bit out.

"Yes, well, not thoroughly enough given what's just happened."

* * *

Standing between the two, Korsak felt like his head was playing ping-pong as they both went for each others throats. There was no one to blame and this was hardly the time to start turning against each other, to have each others' support but they both seemed to have a visceral need to hold someone responsible, to lay culpability on someone's shoulders. The older Detective went to step in, noticing Frost's jugular working overtime but before he could even open his mouth, Frost went in for the kill shot.

* * *

Frost snapped at the implication that he hadn't done his job properly. He'd done his damnedest. Hell, he'd even tried to persuade Jane to not be a part of the foolhardy plan but Jane was stubborn like that. "_I_ wasn't the one who didn't say anything when Jane said she'd go in there unarmed!" he hissed condemnation rolling in his tone, "_I_ was the one who tried to talk her out of it. Or don't you remember?" he asked, eyes glittering as he stepped dangerously close to the blonde, ignoring the tears, the hurt and the pained expression that flickered across her face, _"No, Doctor Isles is right, Doyle's not armed. There's no reason for me to be,"_ he mimicked, "I _begged_ you, _pleaded_ with _you_ cos you're the only one who could get through to her, you were the only one who could change the course of events as they stand now." He pointed a finger at her, trying his hardest not to shove it into her chest as the fury took hold. "You want to look for someone to blame, look at yourself." Abruptly, he turned on his heel and swept through the doors, leaving only silence in his wake.

Maura blinked furiously to hold on to the tears that threatened to overwhelm. Frost was right. This was her doing; this was her fault. "You should go after him," she whispered.

"What about you?"

"I'm not going anywhere." _I'm staying for Jane._


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: As always, I do not own Rizzoli and Isles ;)**

******Just a quick note of thanks. You've all been wonderful reading this! I just hope I will do it justice in the end. Technically, I've most of the chapters written. I'm just doing a bit a tweaking here and there. Admittedly it's been in the works for some time now but updates will be frequent (I hope!) cos I personally cannot stand waiting to find out how the story will go on till the next chapter's up. :) And who knows...if it's good enough, maybe, just maybe, there'll be a sequel. ;)**

******To Guest: I can't tell you whether there will be or not. But I can promise you, if you continue reading, it'll be worth your while.**

**Thanks guys!**

* * *

Chapter 5 - Regrets

"Maura!" Hearing her name, she looked up from where her gaze had been positioned, choking back half a sob, half a laugh. It was so typically Angela to come barrelling in at full force whenever one of her kids got hurt. Reaching the blonde, the older woman engulfed her in a bruising hug.

"I came as soon as you called. What's happening? Has there been any news?" Maura shook her head despondently.

"I haven't heard anything for a while now."

"What about Barry and Vince? Are they ok? Do they know?"

"They're fine. They went outside for a bit of a breather," she said, veering as close to the truth as she could. "Hospital's aren't exactly the most comfortable of places," she murmured, rubbing her hands.

"Oh my god, are you hurt?" Angela asked, noticing for the first time, the blood that stained her hands and dress.

Maura looked down as if in a trance. "No. No, it's not mine."

"Come on. Let's get you cleaned up," she said, pulling Maura up and leading her to the bathroom. Gently, she took Maura's hands in hers, washing away the blood. Maura just stood there watching the water as it swirled red around the sink. Her gaze drifted to Angela who refused to look into her eyes.

"You know, don't you?" she said.

"Just look at this dress," she said, ignoring Maura's words, knowing exactly what it was she was referring to. "That'll never come out."

"Angela..."

Angela sighed, meeting her gaze for the the first time since they'd entered the bathroom. The topic had to be broached sometime. "I know," she said, making reference to the fight that had taken place between the two less than 12 hours before...

* * *

"You're back." The sentence uttered from the Detective's lips wasn't so much a question as it was a statement. Maura flicked through the book she held in her hands.

"Did you ever return my book soothing paint choices for the home?"

"It's on the shelf at home," she replied. She wasn't about to let up. "So you're back."

"That's odd cos I can't seem to find it," the ME said, steadfastly feigning ignorance. Jane nearly threw up her hands in frustration. _So this was how she wanted to play it._

"Did you ever return my guns of the world digest?"

"I always return things i borrow," she said pointedly.

"You sure?"

"Of course i'm sure. Maybe you lost it? You do lose things," she looked over towards her desk and chair sighing in vexation. "Has Dr. Pike been sitting in my chair?" She moved towards it swiveling it round to face her as she studied it intently.

"Could be. Why? Is it broken? You wanna find out if he's been sleeping in your bed too?" Maura eyes narrowed bordering on barely controlled anger and fury as Jane called for Pike. Dutifully, he came trotting.

"Were you looking for me?"

"What about your food?" she taunted. "Dr. Pike, have you been eating Maura's porridge?"

"Of course not!"

"I'm glad that you think you're so funny," Maura said, sarcasm shining through.

"It's better to be funny than poindexter and know-it-all."

"Well, I'd rather be poindexter and know-it-all than hoi palloi," she retorted. Pike raised his eyebrows, thoroughly enjoying the argument taking place between the two women. This was better than a tennis match between Nadal and Djokovic.

"Good one, Maura..." _Damn Maura and her google brain._

"You don't even know what it means."

"It means common. Literal translation is the great unwashed," Pike said, feeling the need to add his two cents to the conversation at hand.

Jane rolled her eyes. "Real classy, Maur," she drawled, "hide your insults in Latin."

"It's Greek actually," she said, triumphant that she finally had the upperhand.

This time Jane did throw up her hands. "Oh, the geek that knows Greek!" she declared. Maura glared. "Do you realise how _ridiculous_ you sound?! People laugh at you behind your back!"

"Really? Cos they call you a bitch behind yours!"

"Well, at least when my father gets pissed off, he doesn't stab people with an ice pick!" she shouted, her wrath at full force now.

"Well, at least my father didn't move to florida to sleep with some floosie he met at a pizza parlour!" she shot back.

"Maura..."

"Or was it a massage parlour?" she asked cattily. Her hand shot to her mouth as her words finally caught up with her, brain hazel eyes raking over Jane's hurt ones. _She hadn't meant that. _This wasn't who she was and she _never_..._never_ was the type to intentionally cause hurt, especially towards the woman she loved. She knew how Jane felt about her father. She looked up to him: the man who'd taught her how to throw a curveball, was there to cheer her on during her hockey and little league matches, took her on all his jobs teaching her the _finer_ aspects of his job, treating her as his equal, who'd been there throughout her childhood. He hadn't been a perfect man by any means but he had been the perfect father. _What she'd said...it was just low._

Maura watched as the fire seemed to drain out of Jane completely and she was faced with something she never thought she'd see; a broken Jane Rizzoli. _She'd done that._ Momentarily caught off guard by the image before her, she heard her say, "why don't you say what this is really about? You...and you're sudden need for a father."

"I don't _need_ a father. I have one," she hissed, aware that Pike was still standing in the doorway.

"Exactly," Jane said, her gaze unfaltering, "You have one. Only somewhere along the way, you seem to have forgotten that. You think knowing about Paddy Doyle, what he's about, who he _is_, is going to help you find yourself?!" The incredulous tone in Jane's voice fired Maura up all over again as the words hit close to home. _How did Jane know?_ Internally she scoffed. _Who was she kidding?_ Jane _always_ knew. It was part of what made her such a good Detective. That and the unending amount of compassion she had but pretended to hide. Maura opened her mouth to respond but she was abruptly cut off by the hand Jane held up.

"No. No, you are going to listen to me and listen carefully," she said, enunciating her words, her tone brooking no argument, "You are who you are because of how you were raised and brought up and that honor, lies solely with Richard and Constance Isles, regardless of how you're childhood was." The hand swiftly cut off her retort again. "You are beautiful and kind and classy and compassionate, and you have a _HUGE_ heart, Maura Isles. And _that_," she said, pointing in Maura's direction, "_that_ is something Doyle isn't." She took a deep breath before going on, her next words difficult even for her. "After Hoyt, I was lost. I used to think he'd taken something from me, something deep inside. But then _I met you_. And you made me realise there was nothing broken about me, that the piece I thought was missing was still there and on some level, I thought I did the same for you, but I guess I was wrong." Her shoulders slumped in defeat. "What you're looking for...it's not logical...it can't be found with science or theories or hypotheses. It can only be found within here," she said, placing a hand over Maura's heart. "But it's obviously something I can't help with." The resignation in her tone made the ME ache. She wanted to put her arms round Jane and hold her, tell her everything would be ok, that it would somehow fall into place. She went to move closer but was stopped by the look in her eyes; the brunette wasn't finished. "But that's something I can't do anything about," she whispered, "this is something you're gonna have to figure out on your own and I'll be right here when you do, but you should know,"she said, her next words the hardest she'd ever had to say, "I won't wait forever." She stepped back letting her hand drop before making her way out of the office.

When Maura had let herself in that night, she'd half expected to find Jane sitting on the couch with a beer in hand not focusing on anything in particular. Her words had hit her hard that day as she realised Jane had been right. Instead, she came home to an dark, empty house. She checked their bedroom for the Detective but it hadn't even been slept in, in the days preceding. She went down to the kitchen getting out a snack for Bass and a glass of wine for herself before heading into the living room. She went to turn on the tv but was stopped by a small green post-it stuck on her DC player. _Play me_, it said. She hit the button hearing the melodic sounds of Christina Perri's, Human, filled the room and for the first time since her life began spiraling out of control, she let herself cry.

* * *

"I was horrible towards her."

Angela shrugged non-committally. "The comment about her father was somewhat uncalled for," she agreed.

"I didn't mean..."

"I know, Maura. I know," she said, placing a hand over her future daughter-in-law's small one. And for the moment, that was enough.

* * *

**I've pasted the link for Christina Perri's song which was referred to in the story below:**

** watch?v=Auz3yGc1pGY**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: As always, Rizzoli and Isles and it's characters do not belong to me.**

**Thanks for the support everyone! Enjoy! :)**

* * *

Chapter 6 – Without You

Maura sat, alongside Frankie and Angela, both at either side of her. Frost and Korsak stood opposite them silently, a scattering of officers down the hallway, Jane's fellow brothers in blue. All had come together for one thing; Jane. All were waiting for news. It had been over 6 hours since they'd taking Jane into the operating room, since they'd had any sort of update as to her condition. Hearing the familiar swish of doors from down the corridor Maura looked up seeing the Doctor who'd been Jane's attending coming through. She took in the slight drop in his shoulders, the weariness in his eyes, the slow steps he made towards them, those steps faltering when he looked up and caught sight of her watching him and she knew. She knew even before he opened his mouth, his eyes looking everywhere but her own the closer he came. He stopped in front of her taking off his scrub cap, his scrubs held a smattering of reddish-brown stains which she couldn't not call blood no matter what way it was looked at.

"No," she whispered. Meeting her gaze, there was only sympathy in his eyes. Sympathy and a great deal of remorse. Giving patients such news was never easy. She knew that. It was one of the reasons why she preferred to work with the dead. That and the fact that the dead were simply easier to be around than the living.

"I'm sorry, Doctor Isles."

"No," she said again, more for her own benefit than anyone else's. She shook her head. She heard Angela break down beside her. Frankie's hand had somehow in the course of seconds, snaked into her own.

"We...she...we did the best we could," was the best he could come up with. A small yell from across the hall followed by one dark fist meeting the wall was the only evidence of emotion from Jane's partner whilst Korsak's eyes seemed glued to the ceiling, a spot up there proving to be one of extreme interest.

"I want to see her."

The doctor gulped slightly, his eyes trained on anything else but the family in front of him. He was terrified, knowing that there would be hell to pay for what he was about to say next. "She's not there, Doctor Isles." Maura's breath hitched at the words. Her hands clenched into fists as she somehow forced her next words out.

"I-I know she's not there, I know she's g-gone but I have to see her. You don't understand. I can't leave her alone in that room. She hates hospitals. I need to see her." She was starting to panic, hysteria taking over. Jane couldn't be left alone. Ever. Angela's cries only increased in volume.

"No, I mean...I...the FBI took her body away." Maura flinched at his words. Jane could never be _just_ a body. She was full of life, and soul, and laughter. She couldn't be gone. It was only then his words penetrated her skull. The FBI had taken Jane. She was gone. It wasn't enough that the cause of this whole catastrophe was the FBI themselves, that if Dean hadn't interfered Jane wouldn't have had to be in Paddy's room with the Agent Connor, that Jane was dead, but they had to take her body too? There was a slow coil deep within her stomach. She flexed her hands noticing the slight the tremble when she did. Quickly, she fisted them again.

Frankie himself was livid. No. He was beyond livid. He was so mad that given the opportunity he felt like storming the fibbies headquarters and shooting every Tom, Dick and Harry there."That's _her_ fiancé you've just taken away! _My_ sister, _her_ daughter, _their_ partner!" Frankie interjected enraged, pointing at each one of them in turn. "What the fuck gives you the right?! How the hell could you think it would be ok to just take her away?! You could've _at least_ have let us say goodbye!" Korsak placed a worn hand on the man. His eyes were kind and held a great deal of understanding but at the same time, they also spoke volumes about how it wouldn't get any of them anywhere.

The Doctor looked uncomfortable. "The trauma your sister suffered having been shot at such close range was catastrophic. It did a lot of damage and," he said, going to answer his question, "as my orders that it was now an FBI case came from higher up..." Maura zoned out, only one thing on the forefront of her mind. Jane was gone. Gone. She glanced up the corridor in the direction the doctor had come before getting up and walking down. She needed to be there, if only to see if she could still _feel_ her detective.

* * *

A tiny blast of cold air alerted the nurse inside the operating theatre that she was no longer alone. She looked up from her cleaning in surprise. "Doctor Isles!" The woman in the doorway didn't seem to register her presence. "I'll..err...I'll give you some space."

Maura looked round the cold white sterile room before her eyes fell on the gurney in the centre, the sides littered with instruments and bloody bandages and right in the middle, the imprint of Jane. She shuddered, a cold icy feeling filling her veins. Slowly, she made her way over coming to a stop a few feet from the bed. She glanced down at the instruments beside and stretched out a trembling hand to the one instrument that echoed familiarity: the trusty scalpel. Curling her hand round it, she lifted it up, seeing the specks of blood where it had cut into Jane, most probably to retrieve the bullets, at worse for the purpose of getting in to sort out a bleed and clotting the internal tear. Her vision strayed to the endless rolls of bandage that had come undone in an attempt to soak in the blood. She snapped.

Incensed, she flung the scalpel across the room, the bowl of instruments and trolley table following only seconds after before she fell on her knees and promptly burst into tears. _We were supposed to have forever._ Minutes ticked by before the soft sounds of the grief-stricken woman abated. Sniffling, she looked around the room at the mayhem she had caused and bit back further tears. Picking herself off the floor, Maura made her way to the gurney where she ran a gentle hand over the lingering warmth that remained. Taking off her heels, she climbed on top and lay down. Curling into a fetal position, she noticed how the smell of lavender lingered. _She was here_. Hands underneath her head, she curled into herself tighter closing her eyes. _She was home_.

* * *

**Ok, so none of you wanted a character death. I know. I myself hate it whenever either one of them ends up dying. But I promise you, if you read on, it'll be worth your while. ;)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: As always, Rizzoli and Isles and its characters are not my own.**

* * *

Chapter 7

Maura had no idea how she got home from the hospital that day. All she knew was that the next time she opened her eyes, she was lying on top of the comforter in bed. She curled tighter into herself, eyes drifting to Jane's side of the bed. It hadn't been slept in since the incident had taken place, Jane citing that she would be staying at Frankie's till she'd had some time to think. She reached out a hand, curling it into Jane's pillow before clutching it tightly, knuckles turning white. The spot Jane normally occupied cold to the touch. _How long since they'd lain together_, she thought, eyes long tired from the buckets she had filled in mere hours.

She opened her eyes blinking to become accustomed to the soft light coming from underneath the bathroom door that Angela had kindly left on to see Jane staring back at her.

"Hey." Seeing Jane staring back at her only brought more tears to her eyes. _Damn her lacrimal and amygdala glands. _"Aww Maura, don't cry. I hate seeing you cry," she said, reaching out a scarred hand that belied its gentleness as she softly wiped the tear away.

"You're supposed to be dead," she whispered. _There were no such things as ghosts. This was merely her mind wishing for what it wanted most_, she told herself.

Jane shrugged. "Perhaps," she agreed, "or maybe I'm just your Guardian Angel."

Maura looked thoughtfully at Jane as the wheels to her mind turned. "Traditionally only those who believe in God are supposed to have an angel by their side. The Old Testament states that the the archangel Michael was assigned to Israel but nowhere within the book of Scripture does it say that an angel was ever assigned to an individual. Besides," she said, shrugging lightly, her next words seeming to be a mere afterthought, "I'm not religious."

The sides of Jane's mouth quirked up as she was met by Maura's furious googlemouth of fact.

"You believed in me." The use of past tense by Jane's mirage or rather, Maura's hallucination did not go unnoticed by the ME. _Always_, she thought.

In an attempt to alleviate the growing tension and anxiousness from within, she went instead for light humour. "You're not God," she quipped. Her words were met by Jane's raucous laughter. Calming down, the brunette looked over to see that she had now sat up and was fiddling anxiously fiddling with the engagement ring she had given her when she'd proposed. It was a stunning white gold band encased with diamonds, simple enough that she hadn't had to take it off whenever she had to perform autopsies, grateful for the thought and elegance Jane had put in purchasing the ring. She'd never taken it off and now, she simply never would.

"I miss you..." the admission was quiet, so soft that Jane had to strain to hear it even in the silence.

"I know," she replied pulling the blonde into her arms. The ME tightened her hold round the pillow breathing in what was simply _Jane_. She snuggled closer feeling Jane's arms tighten round herself and their leg intertwined. She gave a soft smile. _It was perfect_.

* * *

Standing in the doorway of Maura's room, Angela sighed before silently pulling the door closed slightly leaving a little light from the one in the hallway shining in. She was worried. This had not been the first time since her daughter's death that she'd found the ME speaking to absolute nothingness. For the past four days, she'd enclosed herself in her room, refusing to eat or speak to anyone, choosing instead to carry out conversations to whatever of Jane's spirit she saw beside her. Both Angela and Frankie alike had had to coax her to eat even if it was something light. She sighed again as she thought of the inevitable acceptance that came with death. The funeral was due to take place in a couple of days. Boston's police department had arranged everything, right down to the last detail; Cavanaugh had delivered the news himself. Of that she was grateful, for both the department having taking care of things and the personal touch in which the news had been carried._ Perhaps it would provide her with some perspective, she thought, help her handle her grief. S_he went about the house having taking over Jane's job of locking up the house and making sure the windows were closed and properly latched before taking up position on the blonde's couch as she had done over the past few days. _Yes, the day after would be a new day_, and with that she drifted off as sleep claimed her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: As always, Rizzoli and Isles do not belong to me.**

* * *

Chapter 8

"Why?" she demanded. She had stormed into Doyle's hospital room, Frankie hot on her heels, only moments before, the anger and hatred she felt towards the man who had only left chaos in his wake, spilling over, the bag with Jane's personal belongings collected and kept by the hospital having been handed over merely minutes ago being the sole cause for her presence in his room. She needed answers. She needed to know that Jane hadn't been but a mere notch to add to the number, that her death hadn't been in vain.

"She knew too much!" he rasped.

Maura's eyes widened, her expression one of disbelief. "She...she...you killed her because she knew too much?! Look around, Doyle!" she shouted, gesticulating round the room wildly. "How many others know too much! How many others have to die before it's finally enough?" came the quiet rhetoric; the silent plea. "You think no one else saw your little black book? That there are people at BPD who didn't know? That copies hadn't been made?"

In the face of Maura's fury, Doyle was lost. Despite his presence at major events in her life, he had never been an actual father to her. He'd stayed in the backgroundHe hadn't kissed her wounds better when she fell down, wrapped his arms around her when a lover broke her heart, pushed her while she sat on the swing at the playground asking to go higher. Nothing. Richard Isles had done that. She might not have been close to her mother, but there was a certain bond she shared with her father when he'd been around for her childhood years. And when faced front on with the woman whose make-up hid the dark circles under her eyes and which subsequently was effectively ruined by her tears, whose hazel eyes had darkened, glittering a dangerous gold, he realised he didn't know her at all. He didn't know what to say to make it better, to comfort her. Awareness struck him like a shot to the heart.

"Maura..."

"No," she seethed. "You don't get to say my name like it means something to you. You don't even get to say it. You know the one person does? Who dd..di..did?" she choked. "It's the woman I held in my arms five days, two hours and 38 minutes ago, the woman whose voice held such reverence and love, like I was the only person in the world, the same one who thought I blamed her. For shooting you! When now all I wish is that she had! But instead of shooting to injure, shooting to kill! So that at least she'd still be here!" She moved towards him, the feeling of wanting to injure, to hurt taking over but before she could even get within feet of him she felt strong arms wrap around her waist. But not Jane's arms. Never again Jane's. She fought to get free, struggled even but Frankie's hold was too strong and eventually, she gave in.

"She n..never came h-home...I-I n-never had the chance to tell her...! she sobbed, grasping, clawing at the dark blue cloth that represented safety and protection, the same blue cloth Jane had stood by proudly. _Her_ Jane. Frankie only held on tighter. There was nothing he could say that would make things better. Because he felt it too. The loss. The devastation. The emptiness that came alongside the knowledge that he would never see his sister again. Never play a game of ball with, never be able to roughhouse with, never...just never...

"I know, Maura, I know," he whispered and with those words, she slumped against him, the fight leaving her as quickly as it had begun.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: As always, Rizzoli and Isles and its brilliant characters are not my own.**

* * *

Chapter 9 - The Funeral

Maura sat, back upright, hands folded, eyes straight ahead. A hero's send off, they'd said. But there was nothing heroic about the way Jane had died at the hands of Paddy Doyle. The only thing 'heroic' about it was that he could now be tried for over 15 murders, to give families their peace. _What about her peace?_ Jane had been her peace, the person to whom she looked for and found solace in when cases became too difficult because it involved a child, baby, mother. Jane was the one who soothed her, who made all her harboured misgivings and social inadequacies fall away. _What was she now? Who was she without Jane? Who was she at all?_

"Maura?" Maura looked down to see Korsak kneeling in front of her, flag folded, in hand. Before they had left for the funeral, Angela had taken her to one side and insisted that Maura be the one to receive the flag rather than herself. _"It is given to family," Angela had said, "and as far as Jane was concerned, **you** were her family."_All of a sudden her eyes filled with tears. The flag signified the end; the end of the funeral, the end of life as she knew it, the end of the loud, brash Italian, the woman she loved; a final tribute to Jane. Trembling, she took it from Jane's ex-partner as the people around her stood for the 21 gun salute.

"Thank you," she whispered, standing up. Korsak only nodded; words insufficient. She looked up willing the tears to subside as the guns went off, her eyes focusing as far away from reality as possible and in the blur of her vision, she swore she saw Jane, her detective standing there, standing straight, hands in pockets, darks curls blowing slightly in the wind. The figure nodded, once, before raising one hand to their head, a salute in farewell. She closed her eyes letting her tears course down her cheeks. "She's not there, she's gone, she's not there, she's gone" she repeated to herself. Eyes opened again, hope flared brief and sudden, but this time there were only the rolling hills in sight, the figure long gone.


	10. Chapter 10 - Part I

**Disclaimer: As always, Rizzoli and Isles and its fabulous characters do not belong to me.**

**To all fans following this story, thank you for sticking with me so far on this. It's been a brilliant journey and there's more to be had yet. I'm loving the reviews people!**

**This chapter addresses what happens in the months after Jane's death. As you know from earlier chapters, Frost and Maura fell out but they will soon make peace with one another, if for nothing else than for Jane's sake. And as we all know, following the death of a loved one, life must simply go on...**

* * *

Chapter 10 - The Aftermath

Part I

The walls of BPD echoed Jane. With every heavy footstep, every opening of the morgue doors, Maura half expected Jane to waltz in, trademark smirk in place. It was a constant reminder of how things weren't the same anymore. People, officers and detectives alike, skirted round Jane's desk, mindful that their family was now missing one. Korsak avoided it like the plague. Frankie who used to come upstairs and lounge in Jane's chair, feet up on her desk in cheek had taken to sitting next to Korsak instead. Even Crowe kept his head down, giving it a respectful distance. No one had yet been hired to fill Jane's shoes; no one ever could. Cavanaugh had steadfastly ignored the gentle proddings from up above.

Two months in, life continued as it had before Jane's death. Angela still worked in the cafe, Frankie had been made a part of the drugs squad working with Martinez and his crew which left Frost, Maura and Korsak together as part of the homicide team. Frost still turned green and threw up at crime scenes; no change there. The only change was to the dynamics of the trio. Both Maura and Frost had come to the unspoken agreement that they would be perfectly civil to one another, there hadn't been much in terms of interaction between the two. They'd gone for drinks a couple of times but it had been awkward so that had eventually petered off. On the murder front, there were still people committing the most gruesome of killings, taking life on a whim because of a lover's quarrel, a family member's greed, a person's addiction to cocaine, a psychopath's ramblings, a priest's devotion to the spiritual beliefs of all that he'd found holy. Life had simply gone on.

Maura snapped her gloves off, having examined her latest body in the never-ending list. Making quick work of washing her hands, she picked up her dictaphone before making her way into her office. A few days after the funeral, she'd gone back to work, unable to sit around the house anymore let alone go out, as every room she faced and street corner she turned was filled with a memory of her and Jane. Not that work was much better. She still saw Jane sitting on what she'd coined as the 'dead peoples' table' across from her while she worked on whichever unsuspecting victim, legs swinging, signature grin in place but in between those times, she had at least been able to lose herself in her work, though some days she wondered what the point was anymore. Briefly, she had considered moving or at the very least getting a job at another precinct within the city but Jane was here, what was left of the Rizzoli's were here and her daily visits to her grave were the one thing that kept her going, that gave her a sense of peace, a sense of belonging. She sighed, head in hands. She could feel a headache coming on. Looking up, chin now on hands, her gaze drifted to the picture of the two of them which took pride of place on her desk. It had been taken in the midst of Boston's coldest winter by far by Angela who'd been standing at the kitchen window watching her two girls as they'd played in the snow alongside Frankie and Frost. They'd been having a snowball fight, the first Maura had ever experienced given her childhood. In the midst of the fight, everything had gone quiet and Maura had poked her head round from behind the tree she'd been hiding, snowball in hand. Cautiously, she had come out from behind.

* * *

"_Jane?" There had been no reply, her voice echoing within the confines of Maura's snow covered backyard. She heard stifled laughter coming from behind the snow wall Frankie and Frost had built earlier that day. Arching a well-manicured eyebrow, she made her way over determined to catch them unaware but about 5 feet from her desired targets, she'd heard a crunch of snow before she was tackled to the ground by her girlfriend, squealing in the process._

"_Jane Rizzoli! How dare you!" she exclaimed after they landed with a soft thump, Jane below her having twisted them successfully in order to protect the ME from the impact. Jane only grinned mischievously before abruptly rolling them over and squishing her snowball smack in the middle of Maura's chest, emitting yet another squeal from the blonde as cold wetness trickled under her coat. She opened her eyes with the intent of seriously reprimanding her but shivered as she saw the look of adoration, love and pure lust her girlfriend was giving her within those dark orbs._

"_I love you," the detective said._

_Maura snaked her arms round the detective's neck. "And I you," she replied pulling her down for a kiss._

_Hearing a chorus of "ewwwws" coming from the boys, they broke apart smiling. Getting to her feet, Jane extended a hand to Maura who graciously accepted._

"_I'm going to get you back for that, Rizzoli," she promised._

"_Oh yeah? Whatcha gonna do?"she asked, cockiness obvious in her tone._

"_This," she said, promptly squishing the snowball she still held in her hand on top of the beanie that covered Jane's head. Taking advantage of Jane's momentary surprise, she ran in the direction of the back door but Jane being Jane, had quickly shaken off her shock and caught up with the ME taking her by the waist, lifting her off the ground and swinging her round. Maura felt like she was sixteen again as she held onto Jane tightly, laughter taking over her features. They came to a stop but still Jane didn't put her down. Instead, Maura looked down at her lover, affection and love gracing her already perfect features and Angela had quickly taken the opportunity to capture the moment. _

* * *

Two lovers frozen in time. It had been perfect.

_Yes, they had been better times_, she thought as she reached for the picture frame lost in her own memories. As her hands curled round, she frowned feeling something behind. Turning it over, she found a small key affixed to the stand. Detaching it, she examined the key to find a small metal piece with four numbers inscribed attached to it. She seen this type of key before. Searching her memories, she gasped as she realised it was a safe deposit key, the exact same one they'd come across upon investigating a homicide involving a wealthy banker months ago. Knowledge of the key had been kept between the three detectives and Maura. It had never become public. Which meant it could only have been put there by one of them. Her heart skipped a beat as she thought of Jane but to do that, it meant she'd have to have done it long before. She turned it over and over considering her options. _Who had put it there? Had Jane been the one? When had it be put there? Why? _Briefly, she thought about going upstairs to inform Barry and Vince of her finding but then what were they going to do about it? It's not like any threat had been made towards her. There had been no letter, no indication of harm and she had had no more trouble now that Paddy was safely tucked away in lock up for the duration of his trial, a trial which she had steadfastly refused to partake in for the defence despite his lawyer's threats...

_"Doctor Isles, I don't think you understand the consequences of your decision," Mr O'Leary, Doyle's attorney emphasised._

_Back straight, tone crisp and clear, fire burning deep within hazel orbs, the Doctor made sure to enunciate every single word. "I may have just lost my fiance but I assure you, Mr O'Leary that I am no fool. I understand what you have said and I stand by my position."_

_The man ran a frustrated hand through overly gelled hair. "You'd be willing to put your reputation and job on the line for this? To go to jail if you refuse to testify?"_

_"Go ahead," she'd retorted defiant and recalcitrant. "Do your worst. But let me remind you so WE are clear. The fact that you think I'd act as a character witness for YOUR client when I watched him gun down my fiance in cold blood, YOU, my dear sir, are the fool..." _

She took one more look at it before curiosity got the better of her. Against her better judgment, she got up, shrugging off her lab coat haphazardly before grabbing her purse and making her way to the elevator. There was only one way to find out, and that was to go there.


	11. Chapter 10 - Part II

**Disclaimer: As always, Rizzoli and Isles and its gorgeous characters are not my own.**

**Just a short one to keep you all going! More to come soon I promise. Thanks for the support guys!**

* * *

Chapter 10

Part II

Frost's gaze wandered over to the empty desk in front of him. He sighed. Since Jane's death, cases had been piling up, their closure rate steadily in decline. Between himself and Korsak, they had three open cases and two cold cases His eyes flitting to the action figure that stood tall at the side of his desk. He'd bought it from Jane during the sale Angela had had for a bargain but he'd gladly pay top dollar for it if only to see Jane and Doctor Isles again standing side by side, squabbling about how much to charge. _Doctor Isles. Oh god_. The two had barely communicated since that day and apart from cases, they had rarely seen each other outside of work. To be honest, he didn't know what to say. He felt guilty for that and the words that had passed between them and whilst he hadn't appreciated the implication her words held, he understood that they had been said in part, because of her own guilt.

Gently, almost reverently, he picked up the figurine placing it in the bin beside him, the reminder too painful. He lay his head on his desk, exhaustion taking over and before he knew it, he was asleep. Two hours later he woke, neck and shoulders sore from the uncomfortable position he had adopted earlier on. Slowly, he rolled his neck and shoulders to alleviate some of the tension, his eyes falling to his desk having come full circle. There stood the action figure he had only hours ago thrown away. The word DOLL written on a small post-it next to it. He blinked then blinked again. No. It couldn't be. No. He must be imagining things.


	12. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: As always, Rizzoli and Isles and their fabulous characters do not belong to me.**

**ItsMeCharlee: Thanks for the kind words. As much as I agree with you, I think I've made Maura suffer enough. Maura's But I did so wanting to address the consequences of what happens when harsh words are said, that it doesn't just go away, that it has a lasting impact. Still, hey ho! We'll get onto much more interesting things!**

**Many thanks to the rest of you for your reviews and support. I believe this is my longest chapter to date. I only hope I can continue to do the story justice. Maura's ****my favourite character in the series but as a new writer, I've learned that sometimes you have to write the hard things to be good. And so I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

Chapter 11

Maura sat on her couch turning the package over and over in her hands delicately. She'd gotten home not more than an hour ago having come straight home after calling Susie to say that she wouldn't be in for the remainder of the day. It was a slow day anyway. The trip to the bank had been successful to say the least. Locating the box in question, she'd turned the key to find a small package inside. Apprehensively, she fingered the fold of the envelope before sliding a slender finger through the slit above. Tipping it, out fell a dvd. Much like the envelope, she rotated it in her palms, over and over, the words PLAY ME on the top side taunting her. She slid the in the DVD pressing play and the tv came to life as Jane's face appeared on screen. Kneeling in front, mere inches away, Maura choked back a sob seeing her beautiful detective looking back at her. Timidly, she reached out a hand caressing her beloved's cheek as if nothing stood to separate them. The brunette gave a little wave and a small smile.

"Hey Maur," she said running a hand through dark tresses. Her eyes focused on a spot beyond the recorder. "So umm...I guess if you're watching this you found the key I left for you. I knew you'd figure it out." She grinned, pride evident in her features. The smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. "Uhh...I guess this also means that I'm you know...no longer here. There," she said gesturing between them. "God, I'm so sorry, Maur. For Doyle, for what happened. Most of all for breaking my promise to you." Jane's image took on a pained expression as her fingers rubbed over scarred palms. "I told I'd never leave you, that I'd always be there for you. It's kinda hard to do that when you're dead." She scratched her hair as if unsure as to how to go on. "I would never have gone willingly and I just hope you can forgive me for that." For her part, Maura couldn't tear her eyes away from the screen. Jane went on. "That day in your office, I said some god-awful things."

_Language_, she thought automatically.

"I didn't mean any of it. Well, ok no, that's not true. I did mean the last part. You know, the part I said about finding yourself? I meant that."

_"What you're looking for...it's not logical...it can't be found with science or theories or hypotheses. It can only be found within here," she said, placing a hand over Maura's heart. " _The words echoed in the recesses of Maura's memory. Her hand automatically went up to her heart as if grasping Jane's hand in hers.

The Detective sighed. "You're not Paddy, Maura." Maura flinched as she heard his name. "And finding your mother, convincing yourself that you're not him by doing so, it's not going to work either." She'd hit the proverbial nail on the head. "You are who you are. You just need to see that for yourself because everyone around you sees the exact same thing I do. It's one of the reasons why Tommy had a crush on you, why Ma took such a liking to you even before you became a Rizzoli, why Frost and Korsak view you as their friend now, why I fell in love with you..." Maura just sat there staring at the brunette, drinking in her appearance, her eyes raking over her love's strong Italian features, those high cheekbones, her thin lips before coming to rest on her big brown chocolate eyes. _The eyes are the windows to a person's soul_, she remembered hearing somewhere and it was true. She could see the remorse, guilt, adoration, love, uncertainty, hesitancy, regret, ruefulness. She only wished Jane was there to see those exact same feelings reflecting back in her own. It was too late now.

It occurred to her suddenly, catching her unaware, but watching the video, she realised that Jane had known she probably wouldn't be here by then. _She had known_. Somehow, _she_ had realised. And yet, she'd been prepared for the inevitable. It was clear in the leaving of the video and the poems. And then before she knew it, Maura was angry. She had known and she hadn't bothered to tell her, to even give her an inkling. If she had, she'd never have allowed Jane to go in there. _But would she have listened?_ The constant guilt and niggling thought trailed in her mind. _God, she had sacrificed herself._ It wasn't supposed to be like this. They were supposed to get married, go on their honeymoon, wake up and go to sleep in each others' arms, grow old together, make love together, have children together; a little curly haired boy with Jane's spirit and never-ending energy; spend forever together. She came back to the present as she heard Jane's voice speak again.

"So anyway, if you look inside the envelope a bit more," Maura reached for said item, "and just give it the smallest of shakes, there's a present for you," a small A5 sized book of W. H. Auden's poems fell out. It was a first edition. "I found it in this old bookshop I passed by on the way home a few weeks ago. I was supposed to give it to you for your birthday but well, I don't know when you'll get it now but happy birthday anyway. I hope you like it," her face lit up with hope, "I remember you mentioning him in one of your 'google' moments," she air-quoted, "and how he was one of your favourite poets, aside for what's that guy who sounds like those funny men who were skirts that have those folds in em'? Those pleat things..." she said, scrunching her nose in thought. Maura laughed. _Keats_. "Keats! That's it. Yeah." Jane chuckled, brown orbs twinkling with mirth. She ran a hand over the book trying not to cry but the tears continued to just streamed down her face. "So yeah, happy birthday, Maur." The Detective got up to turn the recorder off but at the last moment, knelt down in front of the camera, before saying, "Oh, and Maur? I would have waited."

She had no idea how long she sat there, watching and re-watching over and over again, her make-up long past ruined. A few hours later, Angela came home to find her curled up next to the tv, fast asleep, her head resting on the console, Jane's face peering out from beyond. She briefly thought about waking up the blonde but decided to let her sleep instead. She grabbed the throw lying on the couch before gently draping it over the ME as she set about cleaning the place up a bit. Coming to a stop beside the book of poems, she bent down to pick it up. She gave it a quick flip through, the pages coming to rest on a slightly browned front page which held the title and author and just below that, the words, 'Happy Birthday, Maur' written in Jane's scrawl. She ran a worn hand over them her mind on happier times before placing it on the coffee table before making her way into the kitchen to fix a light snack for them both.

* * *

An hour later Maura sat at her island as Angela bustled around, hands encircling a warm cup of tea, looking no better but certainly no worse for the wear. She was all cried out. Her neck was sore from the position she'd slept in on the floor but her heart ached even more. "What if she thought I didn't want to marry her?" That wasn't what she had meant to say. No. What she had intended to say was 'how do I live without her'.

"You have to be a Rizzoli to understand." Maura looked down, one hand twisting the engagement ring she had never taken off. The jeweller had called the day before saying the rings were ready for collection whenever she or Jane wanted to pick them up. She hadn't known what to say. Bringing herself back to the present, she thought, _that was it, wasn't it?_ She wasn't a Rizzoli. Fate had been cruel that day and taken that away. Angela took in Maura's downcast eyes, her slumped frame. The Maura Isles in front of here was very different from the carefree person she used to know; when Jane had been around.

"Oh sweetie, I didn't mean it like that. All I meant was, well, take me and Janie. When we fight, what do we do?"

"Scream and shout at each other?"

"Exactly!" Angela replied, a full smile on her face. She took Maura's hands in hers, stilling her movements. "We act on our feelings. We go barging in, everyone else be damned. You on the other hand – you have a tendency to analyse things, to need space, to go through each emotion piece by piece. _It's who you are._ And Jane understood that. She knew you were just working through your feelings. She was giving you space. That's all."

"I don't want space. Look at this place," she said gesturing around the room. The older woman did. The place was filled with things; Jane's memorabilia, her sports trophies stood proudly on the shelf where Maura had insisted they go, pictures of them and the rest of the Rizzoli's covered the walls, the blazer she'd thrown back at Jane that fateful day remained slung over the back of the couch, Jane's boots stood by the door. It was a stark contrast from the home she'd first come to when Maura had offered to let her move in.

"It looks very...homely," Angela replied, trying for normalcy.

"What's a home if the people who matter most aren't here?" she softly questioned. "It's merely four walls filled with stuff, none of it of importance."

Angela studied her near daughter-in-law thoughtfully before seeming to come to a decision. "Come on," she said, patting the ME's knee. She got up and walked to the door where her coat hung, taking it off it's peg. Maura was mystified.

"Wha..where are we going?"

"You'll see." She handed her her coat before giving her a slight push out, locking up after her.

* * *

Maura looked at Angela confused as they pulled into the gravel driveway that lead to the cemetery.

"Angela, I don't think visiting Jane's grave is going to help here," the ME said pointedly. Her visits with Jane had so far consisted of just themselves, Maura taking solace in the time she spent by her lover's side, her chats with Jane often vast and lengthy. Almost always, she spoke of their cases, the ones that had just come in, the ones that left her stumped. Sometimes she spoke about the rest of the Rizzoli's; how well Tommy was doing, Frankie's promotion and how Jane would be so proud of him. Other times, their conversations were based on little insignificant things like the weather or a new factoid Maura had learnt.

"That's because we're not here to visit Jane," she said pulling up and getting out of the car. Maura stayed where she was while Angela stood on the freshly cut grass patiently waiting for the ME to follow which given that it was Angela, was not very patient at all. She took a deep breath in attempt to build her courage before following the Italian woman as she criss-crossed in and among the dead buried there. Finally they came to a stop. Maura looked at her who nodded down at the stone in front of her. Maura turned her head to look and one look was all it took to shatter her entire facade.

* * *

Kneeling in front of the grave, Maura sobbed. The words 'Baby Doyle' could still be seen through her blur of tears. She had since lost count of how many times she'd cried today. With Angela beside her, she'd told her the story of how Jane had found the stone after having put two and two together and found Paddy's famous black book. She'd brought Angela, in the event that something happened during her confrontation with Connors and she couldn't show Maura. _That was probably why she'd done it_, Angela reasoned. Even with the possibility of death looming over her, Jane had made sure that someone else had known about her finding, that Maura had at least one more piece to the puzzle, was one step closer to finding her birth mother. Even in death, she was still looking after her. The thought only made Maura sob harder, pain reverberating throughout her body. Her heart ached. She knew what it meant now when people spoke of heartbreak, to feel like a piece of your heart, your soul had been ripped away, even if it wasn't physically possible. She wanted the pain to go away. She wanted it to be Jane showing her the grave, Jane to hold her while she cried, Jane to be by her side. At the end of the day, she just wanted Jane...


	13. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: As always, Rizzoli and Isles and its characters do not belong to me.**

**I apologise for the wait. I know it's been a few days since my last update for this story but life's been crazy busy. Plus, I've been busy wokring on my second story. Anyway, I won't hold you back any longer from reading this. Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 12

_Dear Jane,_

_It's been almost four months without you. Everything's the same. Life, people, they've just drifted on. Sometimes, it's almost feels as if you didn't exist, that they've forgotten - you, the effect you had on their lives, the love you brought, the smiles you put on their faces, the laughter you brought to their lives. _

_Your mother's still working at the cafe; Stanley's the same as he ever was. Frankie's moved up to Vice; you'd be proud of him. Tommy's well. He got a job with a construction company and he's making a go of things with Lydia and TJ. I sometimes see them at Sunday dinner. The three of them as a family and it's hard. It hard to face what you'll never have; someone by your side, children running round. TJ of course has just turned two and he's toddling around on those little legs of his. He looks just like you. The same strong features, deep brown eyes, cheeky smile, Rizzoli stubbornness. And I see the kids we'll never have, the years we'll never get to grow old with one another. I think about your classic eye-roll whenever I go off into one of my 'google' moments, the way you deliberately mispronounce words just to wind me up, the way you call Bass a turtle when you know full well that he's a tortoise and at the end of all that, I miss saying your name when you do all those things._

_I see the looks from Angela, Frankie, Korsak, Tommy. Even Mother's been to visit more times in the last few months than I can ever remember seeing her when I was young. I see the concern, the tenderness, hear the unspoken words __as they tiptoe around_, 'you need to let her go,' they say, you need to move on. Sometimes it's not that simple. And I feel a rage burn in me towards them, towards Doyle. _Doyle for his hand in the chaos he created both around me and within. _Them for thinking I can simply move on, that I can forget. Because at the end of it all, I could never forget you. You were it for me. 

_The nights are the hardest. I miss your arms wrapped around me while we lay in bed, those dark eyes of yours watching over me while I sleep. Did I ever tell you how safe, and loved, and protected you made me feel? How I felt wanted just by your presence? I dream of you. Even my nightmares have become dreams. And then I wake and I turn toward you expecting to see your smile, your laugh, dusky as the morning sky, your sleep-filled dark eyes laden and still awaking and I reach toward you and my hand hits air as I realise you're not there. And then reality comes crashing down in on me as I recall the moment you were taken away; the moment you entered that room, the moment the trigger was pulled, the moment you locked eyes on mine as you realised what was about to happen, the moment you hit the floor, the moment I held you in my arms while you lay dying, the moment the doctors took you away from me, the moment I let your hand go, the moment the Gods took you away from me...I replay all those moments. I can see them in the blink of an eye. What you don't realise is you had nothing to apologise for. I was never angry at you. Whatever mislaid beliefs that I took his side in the whole situation were unfounded and untrue. Yes, I was angry. But not because of the fact that you shot him. I was angry because in that moment I felt you weren't acting like my best friend, my lover, my fiance. You only saw the job you had to do in front of you, regardless of my feelings. I was angry because I realised in that moment, that I'd never have the chance to find my biological mother and that he would forever hold it above me, always slightly out of reach, the answers I was looking for. And you were there. As you always are. My rock. For me to take it out on you. But I refused to give in. I let pride and want and desire to know my roots take hold. I lashed out at you, the only person who's ever been there for me, who gave me the family I always dreamed about. But you, my sweet, sweet girl knew. You knew what the foundation of my anger was for. You knew that the only reason I wanted to find my biological mother was to prove that I wasn't like him, that whatever qualities I had weren't because of him. But by the time I realised this, it was too late. You were gone. And now, I'm left with this never-ending upending guilt and want and need and desire to see you, to feel you, to hold you in my arms. But it cannot be._

_I visited my grave yesterday. Angela brought me. She showed me what I believe you had been going to show me. Only you never got the chance. I have so many questions. And yet, I don't want answers to any of them. Suddenly, what I wanted doesn't matter any matter. What I want and what I need have become two very different things. I want to marry you, and make love to you, and have children with you and grow old with old. But I need you to do all those things with. _

_Time. The one thing that so simple, yet so elusive. It ticks on in the same way the Earth revolves around the sun. Diphilus once said that time is a physician that heals every grief but your passing has left a heartache that cannot be healed and I long for the day we are reunited, so I can stare into your eyes again, hold you in my arms, feel your arms around me. I want that second chance. But in the meantime, for as long as I can, I will walk this world for the both of us, till we meet again._

* * *

Maura awoke the next morning to the beginning of the sun's rays shining through her window, the events of yesterday running through her mind. It had been a day of truths and self-reflection to say the least and she'd realised that Jane had been right. She didn't need to know who her biological parents were to determine whether or not she fit in in the world just as she didn't need to know who her mother was just so that she could convince herself she was nothing like Paddy Doyle, o ensure that the traits she had were hers; she had wanted to find her biological parents for all the wrong reasons. Only now, Jane wasn't here to witness that. She looked towards her night stand where her diary lay open, pen in the middle of the binding. Jane had bought it for her during their first Christmas together.

_"So that you can write down all the stuff you have in that head of yours," she said, "you know, knowledge, fun facts, questions you don't know the answer to," she'd teased._

She'd loved it. Pulling off the covers, she headed to the bathroom. Half an hour later, having completed her morning ablutions, she padded into the kitchen, marginally more awake. Taking out the necessary items for her usual dose of coffee, she turned to the fridge in search of the creamer. Finding it, she made her way over to the coffee machine where the jug promptly slipped out of her hand and smashed to the floor. There next to the machine was a a single white calla lily and a pale blue post-it lying next to it. For the life of her, she had no idea why she was tiptoeing towards the island. This was her house for god's sake but as she came closer and her eyes fell on the words written within that small rectangular piece of paper skimming it quickly, she gasped.


	14. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: As always, Rizzoli and Isles and its wonderful characters do not belong to me.**

**Thank you for all your kind words and support. As my first story, I must say I'm enjoying the whole process immensely. I apologise again for the wait. Life has been crazy busy on my end. Anyway, I shan't hold you back any longer. Fingers crossed you all love this chapter! :)**

* * *

Chapter 13

I carry your heart with me (I carry it in  
my heart). I am never without it (anywhere  
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done  
by only me is your doing,my darling)  
I fear  
no fate (for you are my fate,my sweet) I want  
no world (for beautiful you are my world,my true)  
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant  
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

Here is the deepest secret nobody knows  
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud  
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows  
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)  
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart).

E.E .Cummings. It was a beautiful poem. She knew it off by heart. She fingered the little blue slip of paper as she thought back to the first time after Jane's death she'd found a post-it. It had been a morning much like today's about a month and a half ago. She'd woken up, gotten dressed and come into the kitchen intending to fix herself a quick breakfast as she had been running late for work before finally settling on Jane's favourite lucky charms and at that point in time, had felt the need to somehow 'connect' to the Detective when she'd reached up into the cupboard bringing said box down and almost dropped the thing. There on the front was a small post-it. It read: 'we've run out of lucky charms :( .' She'd shaken it off thinking it had been left there a few months ago by Jane given the fact she never touched the sweet sugary source of 'nutrition'.

But her small discoveries hadn't stopped there. Far from it. Three weeks ago she'd received yet another post-it. This time she'd found a small locket on her coffee table with the words, 'something old' beside it but that had had a logical explanation behind it. Angela had called only minutes later to say that she'd left an old locket that used to belong to Jane's nonna. It had been left to Jane who'd received it when she'd turned 18 but she'd asked her mother to keep it and so, when Angela had been going through some stuff, she'd come across it.

_"She'd want you to have it,"_ she said. She had wanted to give it to Maura personally that morning but seeing as the ME hadn't been up and she figured she needed her rest given the late nights she'd been keeping over the past couple of days, she'd left it on the table. Hanging up, she fingered the trinket reverently before opening it up to find a picture of her and Jane smiling back. Taking off the necklace which held the engagement ring she'd given Jane after she'd proposed, she slipped it alongside the locket, sliding the clasp in behind her neck. The third hadn't exactly been a note per say but the words had been in keeping with the familiar customary rhyme one went through before marriage; something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. This time, the object had been in the form of a parcel, with the words 'something new' written on the top right hand corner in between the edge of the parcel paper and the stamps. In fact, she'd have missed it completely had she not been admiring the swirls of colour on the stamp paper. But that too, had had an explanation behind it, this time, it being a gift from her father who was somewhere halfway across the world on one of his archaeological digs. It had come with a letter attached.

_Dear Maura,_

_I had intended to give this to you on your wedding day. It's not much but I saw them in Kenya a while ago and figured they'd be perfect for you. Of course, I myself have no use for them given that I do not wear earrings or jewelry in general and I hope my sending them doesn't bring back painful and wistful thoughts but you'd be far prettier in them than I ever would, and I know Jane would have thought so too._

_You are always in my thoughts, dear girl._

_With love,_

_Father._

She'd opened it to find a small pair of diamond earrings encased within the small box and it had brought tears to her eyes, both for the thoughtfulness of the gift and the sentiment behind it as well as for the lost chance she'd never had for letting her love see them as she walked down the aisle towards her wife. Not being able to bring herself to look at them, she placed them in her jewelry box where they had remained since.

The third and final one had been only last week. Constance had called from Switzerland saying that she believed she'd left the handkerchief Maura's grandmother had given her at her own wedding, at Maura's when she'd visited last month and she would she please check the guest room to see if it was there. She'd found it eventually, underneath the dresser, right at the back. It had a rather flamboyant design, one that was much in line with the woman's character and artistic flair but what caught the ME's eye were the words 'something borrowed' embossed on the bottom. She'd thought nothing of it just as she hadn't given a second thought to the first three notes but with this fourth note and the flower, she couldn't help but feel shaken, goosebumps rising along her arms. Only a select few knew about her love for the calla lily but only Jane and her mother knew about Maura's passion for poetry, it being the one thing she'd lost herself in during her college years. But with her mother currently out of the country and her fiance dead...the panic rose within as her vision swam. It took all of her control to get her breathing back to normal.

This. This was something else altogether. It wasn't in keeping with the rest of the notes she'd received. This. Was. Personal.

* * *

Maura reached down underneath the foot of her bed clasping a medium sized box in her hands. Taking up residence on the floor, she opened it where she was met by various bits and pieces of her Jane's life together. Small things. All with a meaning behind. It contained memories of their time together. The beer coaster she had used when Jane had first persuaded her to try beer, the ticket stubs to various movies they'd gone out to watch, tickets to the opera, to the games at Fenway Park and right at the bottom, the little post-its Jane had left; she had saved every one of them. They took pride of place. She shuffled through them slowly, pausing at a small yellow one which the ME couldn't help but smile at.

_Maura had come home from a particularly gruelling day at work. They had closed a case today but because of a mix up in the labs, she'd had to stay behind to sort it out._

"_Jane, sweetie, I'm home."_

"_Be right down. Take-out's on the counter."_

_Taking off her heels and placing them at the door, she made her way to the kitchen. Rifling through the food cartons, she got out some plates before going to the fridge to take out some strawberries for Bass. Hearing a bump from behind, she looked down to see said tortoise making his way slowly over to her with something yellow stuck on top of his shell. Frowning, she bent down to take it off, seeing Jane's scrawl. It read: Imma turtle. Deal with it._ _The blonde shook her head, a smile gracing her already beautiful features. She looked up to see Jane leaning in the doorway. She had a full blown smirk on her face._

"_Jane."_

"_What?" the Detective innocently asked stalking towards her. She loved hearing her name on the blonde's lips. Coming to a stop in front of her, she leaned down slightly to greet the smaller woman. Maura took her face in her hands._

"_You're incorrigible..."she whispered, letting Jane off this time as she pulled her into a passionate kiss._

She put the post-it alongside the others in the box as her gaze went to a small black box which she had collected posthumous on Jane's behalf. It was the purple heart, a rare and distinctive honor given to those who had displayed outstanding acts of heroism, service or achievement. Usually, it was awarded to distinguished members of the military but given Jane's contribution to the Boston community over the years and the final nail on the head, Paddy Doyle, the service had decided that she was just as much in a position to receive the highly regarded award as all the rest. As far as Maura and the rest of BPD were concerned, Jane fell into all of those categories but even alive, she knew that the brunette would not have accepted the medal, let alone any other, willingly. The ME chuckled to herself remembering the fight her love had put up following the shoot out at headquarters where a ceremony had been held in her and Corporal Abby Sherman's honor. She'd been given a choice that day; the easy way or the hard way. She had to of course choose the latter and Maura felt herself wondering if the brunette would have been twice as difficult if not more, given the higher rank the heart held. Accepting it on Jane's behalf had been one of the proudest moments of her life as well as one of the most difficult. More than half the department had shown up that day, all brothers in blue, standing proud.

_"And now, we would like to present the Purple Heart, an honor bestowed only upon the best, to none other than Boston Police Department's, Jane Rizzoli. Detective Rizzoli unfortunately never made it for her outstanding bravery and contribution that helped take down Boston's most notorious mob boss, but her act of heroism will not be forgotten either. We have however, in our midst, Doctor Maura Isles, who as Detective Rizzoli's fiance, has most graciously agreed to accept the award on her behalf. Doctor Isles, please."_

_Maura made her way through the sea of people, accepting the medal before stepping behind the podium._

_"Thank you. Jane used to say how lucky she was to have met me when in fact I was the lucky one. Jane was an amazing woman and an amazing Detective. She had a relentless energy and determination when it came to her job, pursuing those to be brought to justice, giving peace to those affected. It was what made her such a good detective. It was who she was. She, alongside her fellow brothers in blue have served the city of Boston so well and have sacrificed so much. I myself had the pleasure of meeting Jane almost five years ago to the date. She was loud, brash, Italian. Five years later, she was still loud, brash and Italian." That garnered a chuckle from everyone around. "What she didn't realised was the__ impact she had on everyone's lives. The victims, their families, the people she worked with, her family, myself." The blonde took a deep breath. _"January 16th this year was a momentous day for all law enforcement. It was the day that ended the reign of one of Boston's most notorious mob bosses, Paddy Doyle. It was also the day that ended Jane Rizzoli. Now, Boston stands slightly safer than the one she left behind; people can walk the streets, families can shut their doors, children can play in the street safe in the knowledge that there are people keeping them safe, that there are guardian angels watching over them. Jane used to say how lucky she was to have met me. I...was the lucky one."

Her speech, once it had ended had received a standing ovation. She'd even seen Frost standing in the back pride shining in his eyes clapping along with the rest of them. Yes, it had been hard that day but she believed she'd done Jane justice and at the same time, been so proud of her Detective. She brushed aside a tear that had unwittingly escaped. Taking the top most post-it from the stack, she placed the items back in the box, covering it gently and sliding it back in its rightful place under the bed. She glanced at her watch, running down the stairs quickly before grabbing her purse and slamming the door behind her.

_Shit, she was late._


	15. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: As always, Rizzoli and Isles and its wonderful characters do not belong to me.**

**Thank you all for all your kind words, encouragement and support so far. Here's something to keep you guys going. **

* * *

Chapter 14

"Come in."

Frankie entered the ME's office with Frost right behind him to see the honey blonde elbows deep in paperwork rather than the usual body.

"Hey, Maura. Those labs come in yet bout our latest John Doe?"

Maura set her pen down and smiled. "Frankie. No, not yet. I'm sorry but the lab has been backed up these past few days. However, once they come in, I'll be sure to let you know." She looked behind him to see Frost standing awkwardly near the door. "Detective Frost," she acknowledged. The young man only nodded in response.

Frankie could feel the tension oozing in the room between the ME and Frost. Awkward couldn't even begin to describe how out of place he felt. It was at times like these that he felt like knocking both their heads together. Both were equally as stubborn though and while the strain in their relationship was not exactly ideal, it had been for the most part, civil. Thankfully, the silence was broken by senior criminalist Chang.

"Dr Isles, here are those test results you requested urgently." Maura got up eagerly from her chair to take hold of the papers in hand, momentarily forgetting the two men. For the first time since Jane's death, he saw a glimpse of the old Maura - the Maura who would take an interest in their cases often going somewhat off tangent whenever she got into one of her spiels about something or other case-related as compared to simply treating them as part of her job, passing them off once her role was done, he saw the hint of excitement that would take hold when there was a breakthrough. He watched her flicked through the paper, examining the results. He noted the way her shoulders dropped and the sense of trepidation that had coursed through only seconds ago, whoosh straight back out.

"Anything interesting?"

"Hmmm?" she murmured looking up. "Oh, Frankie. I'm sorry. I completely forgot you were there. Did you want anything else?" The sudden characteristic change was not lost on him. When Susie had brought those results in, she'd been apprehensive and ever so slightly jumpy, her mind suddenly on other things. He could tell from her body posture. Now, she was just despondent, discouraged even.

"I uh...well we," he said pointing to himself and Frost, "were wondering if you'd like to go to lunch with us later today?" Maura didn't reply.

He looked over at Frost whose eyes held concern similar to his, indicating that he'd catch him later but the black man steadfastly refused to move. Despite their fight, Maura was still his friend and friends looked out for one another. Besides, Jane would probably come back to haunt him if she ever found out. The woman had been as determined in life as she would be in death, he figured, and he would rather like to sleep easy at night. In any case, he certainly didn't want it on his conscience if anything were to happen to her. Dealing with Jane's death had been hard enough.

Frankie took a seat opposite the blonde.

"Not what you were expecting?" he asked, indicating to the papers she still held in her hand. His question was effective enough to draw her out of her reverie.

"No. Not at all," she replied, "I guess I was just hoping..." She gave him a small smile of assurance.

_I'm fine._

_I'm not going mad._

_I don't believe in ghosts_

"It was silly really."

"Wanna tell me?" he asked. "It's just that sometimes, two heads are better than one..." For the first time, he couldn't see the logic in that sentence. Maura was the genius after all. If she couldn't figure whatever it was out, then he certainly wasn't going to be any better at doing so either. She stared at him for what seemed like an indeterminate amount of time before coming to the conclusion that it was probably best if someone knew given the fact that she hadn't confided in anyone since the notes had started. She put the papers down, reaching into her desk drawer to pull out two post-its.

"This," she said indicating to one of them, "is one of the notes Jane used to leave for me." He nodded, knowing how it had become his sister's habit to leave them for the ME. "This," she said, picking up the other one and passing it to Frankie, "is one of the notes that was left to me a sometime last week. I found it alongside one of my mother's handkerchiefs." He examined both the papers carefully, as did Frost who had by that time, come to stand behind him. They both squinted at them but she could see from their confounded expressions that they had no idea what she was getting at.

"I don't understand," he admitted.

She took a deep breath. The news she was about to give was definitely not going to be taken lightly. If anything, it would probably make them question her sanity. Hell, if she were them, she would probably be questioning her sanity too.

"It isn't the first one I've received since Jane's death," she said, matter-of-factly, leaning back in her chair, hands clasped over her stomach "and seeing as Jane was the only one who ever used to do it, how it was our 'thing'..." She didn't know quite how to go on, knowing if she did, she'd probably sound crazy for even thinking it. But she had to hope. Surprisingly, it was Frost who spoke up, having quickly connected the dots.

"You don't think she's dead." She fingered the ring on her locket, moving it from side to side nervously.

"No." She was surprised at how even her tone was. "At least I didn't. As soon as I received the fourth post-it I began to become suspicious. So I ran a handwriting comparison match between the two pieces. Apart from a slight similarity between the 's' and the 't', that is unfortunately where it ends. The rest of the words don't even compare. In fact, there's a less than 10% match between the two. 7.6% to be precise." Frankie's brain was busy playing catch up.

"Wait a minute, did you just say that since the you found the first one, you found four more, effectively amounting to the fact that you have received _five_ of these?" he asked disbelievingly.

Maura gulped. "Yes."

Frankie was incredulous.

"And you didn't _think_ to tell anyone?!"

"I didn't believe it to be necessary!" she argued. "They popped up at the most inconspicuous times. I had no reason to suspect anything out of the ordinary," she said, defending her lack of communication about the notes.

Frost decided there and now would be a good time to interrupt. "What did the others say?"

"The first one informed me that we were out of lucky charms but I believe that had been left by Jane before she died, after all, I haven't touched the box since given the nutritional 'value' it lacks..." She could tell from Frankie's pointed look that she was getting off track. Coming back to the issue at hand, she continued, "the others had the traditional wedding phrase, 'something old, something new, something borrowed' but I have yet to receive the last, that being 'something blue'," she replied.

Frankie's mind was working overtime in light of the information.

"Wait. Two things. First, you said you've received five of these notes, yet you've only accounted for four. Second, you said you thought it had all been coincidental, that you thought nothing of it so something must have happened to change your mind. The question is, what was it?" Maura tilted her head, Jane had been right. One day, Frankie would make a brilliant detective. She sighed.

"I found another one a few days ago. This time, it was a poem. 'I carry your heart with me. I carry it in my heart..." She finished off the rest of the poem quoting it flawlessly. Her last words met a deafening silence. "Plus, there was the lily." It was added as more of an afterthought.

Warning bells started going off in both men's heads.

"Lily?"

"Yes. It was lying beside the note."

"We should inform Cavanaugh," Frost said. Frankie nodded in agreement, getting up to do so.

"No."

"Maura..." the exhortatory tone in Frankie's voice was not nearly as good as his sister's. If it had been, she would have listened agreeing with Jane that all necessary precautions should be taken.

But he wasn't Jane.

"We don't have any evidence..."

"There is someone, with access to your home, leaving creepy, random notes," he bit out. "I don't know about you, but I sure as hell would sleep easier knowing you were safe. And Jane would want you safe..." It was emotional blackmail; he knew it, Frost knew it, Maura knew it, but if got her to listen, if it kept her alive...that was all that mattered. Now that Jane was no longer around, he'd felt it necessary to step up to the plate and carry on protecting the ME. It was what she would want. Plus, he was slightly worried for the ME's state of mind - somehow, through some deduction or other, she had come to the conclusion that her fiance was still alive. Hope, faith, whatever misguided belief that had caused her to believe it, wasn't healthy.

Jane was dead.

She had to come to terms with the fact.

Sooner, rather than later.

Clearly, the blackmail worked. Whatever retort or argument she had been about to give effectively disappeared.

"That's not fair," she whispered.

Forgetting that they were supposed to be fighting despite their 'truce', Frost came round, crouching down in front of her.

"Frankie's right," he said, clasping her hands between his. Tears filled her eyes. "Someone is clearly taunting you with those words and given that it's coming up to the date of what would have been your wedding day... It's evidence enough given the words they've used.

You're one of our own, and we look after our own.

Cavanaugh _needs_ to know."

* * *

**That's it for this chapter. Reviews as always, are always welcome. **

**I am working on the next one now so hopefully, it'll be up in the next few hours! Only a few chapters till the end and then it's on to the next one in the series, provided that you all want this to continue. **

**In the meantime, stay tuned!**


	16. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: As always, Rizzoli and Isles and its wonderful characters do not belong to me.**

**Here's the next chapter as promised with a new character in the fray! Is everyone ready for a little bit of Addison? ;)**

* * *

Chapter 15

Maura pulled up to her home on Beacon Hill, taking both her purse and the groceries she had purchased on the way home out of her Prius, completely oblivious to the figure sitting on her porch steps. It had been just over a week since Frost and Frankie had gone to Cavanaugh with their concerns, Maura with them though not as concerned. But he too had agreed, arranging for a squad car to drive by every few hours and stationing one outside her house every night.

_Just till they got to the bottom of it_, he said.

And yet nothing had happened. She'd neither seen nor heard from the mystery person since. Then again, aside from the occasional post-it, nothing had happened during that time either. As much as she understood the measures to be precautionary, she was getting tired of the lack of privacy and degree of insight the beat cops seemingly had on her personal life, with them knocking on her door every now and again, just in case. She immediately felt bad as Frost's words echoed back, "You're one of our own, and we look after our own." The man meant well. They all did. She just sometimes wished for that little bit of peace.

Opening up her boot, her mind working overtime wondering who it was who had left those notes. The items with the note was just too convenient for her liking. She berated herself for not having seen it earlier. She was beginning to think someone was playing a trick on her. If so, it was one hell of a cruel one. Locking her car, she made her way up the driveway in search of her keys, almost dropping the bag upon seeing a figure loom upon her.

"Woah there! It's just me. Just me," the person said, coming in to catch the bag of foodstuff.

"_Addison!_" Maura put her hand to her chest feeling her heart race at being caught off guard.

"So I gather you've missed me then," came the cheeky response.

"You scared me! How else did you think I'd react."

"I wasn't exactly hiding behind the bushes, Maura," the redhead said dryly. "Besides," she shrugged, "I went to your office and some woman with black hair and glasses said you'd left early for the day. Hence, me gracing you with my presence here." She followed the blonde to where she was searching for her house keys. Finding them, she turned the lock, letting them both in. They made their way into the kitchen where Maura put down her bags. Placing both hands on the counter, she looked the redhead squarely in the eye.

Social etiquette be damned, "why are you here, Addison?"

"You wound me, Doctor Isles," she said rather dramatically, placing a hand to her chest. Maura fought the urge to not roll her eyes. "Can't I just come and see how my friend is doing?"

"You can. Or you could have just called. That would have done equally well," was the measured response from the blonde who was currently putting away the groceries.

Addison Montgomery waved a careless hand as if in dismissal. "I had time off." Maura arched a rather well manicured eyebrow as she regarded her friend critically.

"Ok, so they _made_ me take time off."

"I thought you _ran_ the practice."

"I do. And as practice manager, I too am allowed vacation time. We're not all cyborgs," she said teasingly. The words pierced Maura, as total familiarity came rushing back and the pieces of her heart that she'd tried to put back together countless times over the last few months, shattered once again.

It had been in the first few stages of their friendship, far before either of them had had any inkling of how they'd really felt about the other despite the attraction that was there. Jane had come over, nightmares of Hoyt making her unable to sleep. And Maura being Maura, had let her in, unable to say no to the one person who'd somehow started knocking down her walls from the time they'd met. They'd been lying in the ME's guest bedroom enjoying each other's company when Dean had come over to pass the blonde a file. At the time, Jane had been certain that they were both after the same guy only to find it wasn't true. While she'd found his physical attributes to be not unkind to the human eye, she'd felt no sort of physical pull towards the agent. Her mind flashed back to that night...

_Jane lay there fiddling with her hands. It was something she did when she was anxious and over the past few months, the ME had come to recognise it as such. _

_"Did you ever like the same guy as your best friend?" The question was hesitant._

_"No."**  
**_

_Did you ever have a best friend?"_

_"No."_

_"You'd tell me if you were a cyborg, right?"_

_Maura quirked her head thinking seriously before she shook her head saying, "No, I don't think I would."_

"Maura. Earth to Maura." Maura came back from her musings to see her friend waving a hand in front of her face.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"Where did you go?" Addison looked at her concerned.

"Nowhere important," she hedged, shrugging it off.

"Hmm..."

Realising she hadn't displayed the proper social etiquette that had been ingrained in her, she turned to the refrigerator.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

"What do you have?" Addison asked, peering over her shoulder.

"There's a fine merlot if you're interested, or beer, or you're welcome to have some coffee or tea? I'd be quite happy to make some for you."

The concern Addison had felt appeared again. "Blue Moon?"

"Yes," she said, "Frankie and Tommy drink it." The last part was said almost defensively as if she knew her friend was questioning her decision of keeping Jane's beer in the fridge.

Addison held her hands up in defense. "I didn't say anything."

"Yes, well..." she went to get a glass, ignoring the slight tremor in her hands. "You never answered my question Addison. Why are you here?"

The redhead considered the blonde carefully. She had lost a bit of weight in the months after the funeral and there were slight bags under her eyes, not quite concealed by the make-up she wore. And just as the life had been snuffed out of Jane, the light in Maura's eyes was no more. She shrugged nonchalantly.

"I'm worried about you. Sue me. We're _all_ worried about you. Your mother's worried about you. And I have to say, she's a far cry from the Constance Isles I once knew."

The ME twiddled with her wine glass before forcing herself to still her hands and look her friend in the eyes. That too had been Jane's doing.

"You'll have to thank for Jane for that." The words slipped without warning but neither missed the use of present tense implied within. Once again, Addison ran a curious eye over her friend taking the opportunity to run one over the house she now sat in without invitation as well. Nothing had changed since she'd last been here. It was like being stuck in a time warp; Jane's things still stood where they had been the last time she was here just over four months ago. Her trench coat still hung on the coats' peg, her boots still stood by the door; she'd noticed them when she'd come in. To be honest, it had been hard not to. The jar of instant Maura had complained Jane had hid behind the cereal was now on full display in front of it and it looked to be a new one too. Hell, she even kept Jane's beer in the fridge.

Addison cast her mind back to when Derek first walked out on her. She hadn't changed a thing either then in the hope that she wouldn't have to, that he would eventually return, she'd beg his forgiveness and all would be right again with the world. Then he'd moved. To another state and straight into another woman's arms; the arms of Meredith Grey. Once she'd finally realised he wasn't coming back, she'd gone after him and after weeks of pulling and pushing from both their ends, she'd given up. What they'd had was no more. So she'd taken some time off and went to visit Maura only to find her happily and sickly in love. From the moment she'd picked her up from the airport to the moment Jane had arrived home, the woman had gushed about nothing BUT Jane, with the exception of a little bit about her work thrown in here and there. She'd thought it, oh god, it was going to be another Garrett Fairfield who'd only had the blonde's status and money on his mind when they'd first started dating and later asked her to marry him, but then Jane had come home. And she'd seen for herself how her world revolved around the honey blonde, how the moment Jane arrived home, her eyes had searched for Maura's, how her weary expression lit up and a smile stretched across her face once she found her, the kiss they shared as she came to meet her and the utter look of devotion, adoration and love in orbs which were reflecting the exact same emotion. Frankie, who'd been sitting across from her at the time had just chuckled, quite used to their display of affection.

_"It's sickening isn't it?"_ he whispered.

Quite taken aback and gobsmacked, she had agreed but she couldn't help but feel just the slightest bit of envy for the look of giddiness and love that adorned her friend's face, wishing that she had that for herself - someone to come home, someone to love who loved you back unconditionally. Some way, somehow, her socially awkward, quirky genius of a friend had found her place in the world; next to the side of one Jane Rizzoli.

No. Getting divorced wasn't quite the same as having someone you love die in your arms. And loving Jane Rizzoli had been a whole other kettle of fish. Her expression softened.

"Maura..."

The woman before her gave her a somewhat strained smile as if she were trying to convince herself of her words.

"I'm fine," she said.

Addison placed one hand over her own.

"Are you, Maura? Are you really?"

Maura turned the wine glass round and round, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. In truth, she had no idea how to answer her friend's question without breaking out in hives. The warmth of a hand on hers stilled her movements.

"Tell me, Maura. What can I do?"

_Build me a time machine. _

_Grant me a miracle. _

_Bring me back Jane._

The honey blonde shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing," she replied.

* * *

The two women sat in the kitchen, oblivious to the hooded figure watching them through the window. To the ordinary observer, they looked like two women simply catching up, having a chat, a bit of a laugh. To the person watching, they knew better. They took in the slight stoop of the ME's shoulders, the anxiety that coursed through her as she rotated the glass in circles. The loss in weight and lack of sparkle in the ME's eyes didn't go unnoticed either. For weeks they had been watching, waiting. For the right moment. The figure straightened slightly at the sight of the redhead placing a hand over the ME's, taking note of the crease between the taller woman's brows. Their concern went up a notch. They watched as the ME gave her friend a weary, wistful smile, the small yorkie pattering round their feet begging to be let out. It was time to go.

_Soon, Maura, soon,_ they thought. _At the end of it all, it would be worth it._

And with that, they were gone, the darkness swallowing them up.

* * *

**Cliffhanger! I'm evil I know. :) On a positive note, this is almost finished - there's only two chapters left. So hang in there and thanks for sticking by!**


	17. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: As always, Rizzoli and Isles does not belong to me.**

**Thank you for all the reviews so far guys! I'm loving them all; the good and the not so good. **

**IncendioVerum: I had a good laugh imagining the 'stink eye that rivals Joe Friday being dumped off the couch'. Love it. I could imagine that look perfectly.**

**Paundy: It's not so much that he hasn't connected the dots but more like what he's not said about it yet. It's addressed in this chapter anyway so you'll find out soon.**

**Regina Rizzoli-Isles: Your words had me in stitches too. On another note, is it possible to deny all liability for all possible breakdowns, nervous or otherwise that this story has caused? Lol.**

**Noblegraces: Here's the much awaited next NEXT chapter. Please don't lose sleep over it!**

**cjunited38: All will be revealed soon!**

**Keep up with the reviews people! It's useful to know the ways in which I can improve and make future fics better for all you readers, or alternatively if there's any way you want a scene played out.**

**Later guys. Stay tuned! ;)**

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Chapter 16

Maura kneeled down, tenderly brushing the autumn leaves away. She set about tidying the place up, making it look more presentable.

"Addison's here." She scowled slightly, recalling the redhead's blustering entrance early last evening and determined instrusiveness into how she was living her life, and whether it really was a life. "She's staying for a few days...or so she says." The frown on her face deepened before it disappeared altogether. "I don't suppose I have much of a choice in the matter either way," she said resignedly.

She placed down her latest letter on the grave in front, leaving it slanting slightly against the stone that read:

Jane Rizzoli

Defender and Protector of All

The last of her letters had disappeared just like all the others she'd left before it, despite the slight weight of the flowers she'd put on top.

_Blown away by the wind probably_, she thought.

It was oddly comforting to think that somewhere in another state, on another continent, her letters would be found by another lost soul much like those messages people put in a bottle a let drift to sea, and that somehow it would help put things in perspective for them, make them feel like they're not alone, connect.

Her attention was drawn from her musings as she heard the snap of a twig at the back of her, footsteps in the grass. Her head snapped up to find Frost standing slightly behind her, uncertainty marring his face. They stared hesitantly at each other. Frost broke the silence first.

"I can leave...if you want some time alone."

She blinked up at him, making the decision for him as she reached out and took hold of his hand to pull him closer.

"No. You have every right to be here as I do. And besides...Jane would want you here."

She let go, turning her head back to the stone and for a brief second, Frost missed the comfort and warmth the hand gave, the re-connection he'd felt to Jane. He stuffed his hands in his coat pockets hurriedly. She looked back at him again, noting how in his arms was...nothing. Etiquette had taught her that it was customary to bring something t a grave, be it a flower or a stuffed bear, something in remembrance, though she could understand how sometimes all people brought were their words. Seeing her perplexed expression, he went to explain,

"She'd be mortified if she found me bringing her flowers." The words got a slight smile out of the ME and the man couldn't help but recall the number of times he'd seen the blonde do the simple act since Jane's death.

"Yes...she most likely would," she agreed. She could picture Jane's deadpan expression of 'really' and the way her eyebrow would quirk in disbelief before thrusting the flowers back in the person's face and stalking off. It made her smile. She had never been a flowers kind of girl. He knelt down beside her, hands still encased in coat pockets.

"I got one too, you know." The admission was so quiet, Maura almost missed it but she knew without a doubt what it was he was talking about.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

Frost shrugged. "Thought it was one of the guys." He breathed deeply. "And I guess I didn't want to go down that path of wishful thinking," he admitted.

She linked her arm through his.

"It's never a bad thing, wishful thinking. It shows you your heart's desires, what you want in reality. It's the formation of a belief according to what might be pleasing to imagine, evidence, rationality and logic aside. It's a product of resolving conflicts between one's belief and desire."

Frost chuckled.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just...well you're doing that google thing Jane always complained you used to do."

"And yet, she always understood every word." She cocked her head to one side, adding the next sentence in almost as an afterthought. "Most of the time anyway."

"Yeah...she always seemed to get you. Right from the start. It was like you and her were meant to be." He glanced over at the woman beside him afraid he'd said too much but if the ME heard, she gave no sign of having done so.

"I'm sorry," he said. And it was an:

_I'm sorry for bringing it up_

_I'm sorry for the last few months_

_I'm sorry I haven't been there for you the way I should have been_

_I'm sorry I couldn't save her_

_I'm sorry I can't bring her back to you_

She looked at him, considering the man beside her thoughtfully, before once again glancing away, eyes focused on the headstone in front.

"I know."

_I know you did everything you could_

_I know I was harsh on you that day_

_I know my words were uncalled for_

_I know you weren't responsible_

_I know you miss her too_

She laid her head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry too," she said, her thoughts going back to their conversation before they had gotten sidetracked.

"Wishful thinking...

I'm guilty of it too."

* * *

About two hundred yards away, stood a figure, behind a tree.

They took in the two people huddled in front of the stone before them and smiled.

_In less than a week, it will all be over._

* * *

**Last chapter coming up! **

**I'm kinda sad it's drawing to an end... :(**


	18. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: As always, Rizzoli and Isles does not belong to me.**

**Last chapter guys! And I'm sorry but it's a short one. **

**But I've had so much fun writing this. **

**Thank you for staying with me throughout. :)**

* * *

Chapter 17

Maura entered her home, having finally gotten rid of Addison who had returned to Los Angeles two days ago unable to sit idle any longer. Today, she's devoid of feeling anything. It's been five months since Jane's death, three since Doyle's trial had started, and less than three hours since the 'Guilty' verdict had been delivered. Maura hadn't been there to watch the gavel strike, to see Doyle be led away. She didn't have to be. Hearing those words wouldn't have made it any more satisfying but most of all it wouldn't have brought Jane back.

Maura sighed, pushing back her tears before making her way through the empty house. She stopped to grab a glass of wine before heading upstairs to her room. All she wanted to do was sleep. Walking over to her dresser, she put the glass down, a hand going to one ear to take off her earrings as she glanced in the mirror. There, stuck in the middle of it was a post-it. The note simply read:

'I love you.

Marry Me.

Be Mine'.

Feeling a presence behind her, she whirled round, eyes befalling on a tall, lanky figure, with dark raven curls and smoldering chocolate orbs staring back at her.

"Jane," she breathed, hardly wanting to believe it. She blinked once, twice, three times, convinced she was hallucinating. But no matter how many times she did so, the mirage wouldn't go away.

Tentatively, she took a step closer. Then another, then another, till she was merely inches away from the person before her. She reached out hesitantly placing a hand over the chest of her fantasy gasping when she felt the strong heartbeat bringing life to the body before her.

This was no illusion.

This was Jane.

Real, tall and proud Jane.

Her Jane.

"Yes," she whispered, before she was enveloped in a bone crushing embrace. Jane held Maura tighter to her understanding Maura's words. There would be time for questions later. For now, all they wanted was each other.

- The End -

* * *

**That's it folks! So I'm thinking of doing a sequel to cover their future and what's happened in the past ie. in the time that Jane was 'dead' but I don't know. Would you all prefer to keep the mystery behind it as it is or would you guys like more? **

**Let me know! I'm open to all suggestions. :)**

**Thanks again for reading. You've all been great. :)**


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